


Got to be Good Looking 'Cos He's So Hard to See

by WhatWldMrsWeasleyDo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-11 22:15:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2085189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatWldMrsWeasleyDo/pseuds/WhatWldMrsWeasleyDo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James is only nineteen and he doesn't think he's ready to be a father, so he gets drunk and goes to Sirius' place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Got to be Good Looking 'Cos He's So Hard to See

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://hp-emofest.livejournal.com/profile)[**hp_emofest**](http://hp-emofest.livejournal.com/), the recipient was [](http://writerofictions.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://writerofictions.livejournal.com/)**writerofictions**. This is her second favourite and not very favourite pairing. I saw that she liked the Beatles, so I thought I'd throw some in. The dialogue's a bit melodramatic to be completely in character at times, but that's part of my interpretation of “emo”.  
>  **Warning(s):** Drunkenness, vomit, slash, references to underage sexual acts, adultery, angst, explicit sexual description, first time.  
>  **Disclaimer:** This is a work of fan fiction set in the Harry Potter universe – all recognisable characters and settings are the property of J. K. Rowling and her associates. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is made from this work. Please observe your local laws with regards to the age-limit and content of this work.  
>  Quoted lyrics are by Lennon/McCartney (“Come Together”) and Harrison (“Something”).  
> 

His eyes were bloodshot, with dark hollows beneath them, his clothes crumpled and his stubble unchecked. Sirius absorbed this information silently in the couple of seconds it took for James to unsteadily walk into his flat. He didn't ask what was wrong; he knew his best friend would tell him when he was ready. James didn't speak, either, he just staggered across the little kitchen and then came to a halt at the door into the sitting room.  
   
“Oh, fucking fantastic!” he spat.  
   
“Good evening to you too,” Remus replied from the sofa where he was sitting with Peter.  
   
“Don't bother to invite me, will you? Why don't you three _single_ guys just get together and play ...” James peered at the coffee table, “card games. Don't bother to ask your _married_ friend, will you? 'Cos he's just about as good as dead!”  
   
“Get over yourself, James -” Peter started.  
   
Sirius cut him off, “It wasn't like that Prongs. They turned up unannounced, the same as you just did. Which is all great.” He tried to pat James' arm reassuringly, but the shorter man jerked out of his reach.  
   
“We're living with parents, you're with Lily ...” Remus shrugged. “We all escape to the bachelor pad. We'll deal you in on the next game.”  
   
“Up your arse, werewolf! Daddies don't play games. Everything's all serious and sensible from here on in.” James swayed over to the ornate cocktail cabinet in the corner.  
   
“You want a beer?” Sirius called to him.  
   
“He's had enough,” muttered Peter.  
   
James leaned on the ornate drinks cupboard and unlocked the carved and inlaid doors with a wave of his wand.  
   
“I wouldn't!” Sirius warned.  
   
James' voice almost disappeared inside the cabinet as he replied to the earlier offer of a beer, saying, “No thanks, I think I'll have, erm ...”  
   
“I don't know what's in there,” Sirius said, his voice full of concern. “It was Uncle Alphard's. All the furniture's just what he left in the flat when he died. I haven't even looked in that since I moved in.”  
   
James extracted a dusty looking bottle and stood up as he deciphered the label. “Strawberry brandy!” he declared. “Alcohol doesn't go off.”  
   
“Do you think that's a good idea?” Peter asked the room in general.  
   
“Get back in your hole, Ratty!” James snarled, then laughed uproariously at his own joke. He was the only one laughing.  
   
“Do you need a glass?” Remus asked.  
   
“So fucking square!” James slurred, pulling out the crumbling cork then swigging from the bottle. Cradling it to his chest, he lurched out onto the balcony. Sirius took a step after him.  
   
Peter stopped him by asking, “Are you playing this game or what?”  
   
“I was gonna ...” Sirius looked uncertainly between Peter and the window.  
   
“Leave him,” Peter said.  
   
“What if he falls off or something?” Sirius asked.  
   
The three friends regarded one another for a moment.  
   
“That's a point,” Remus conceded eventually. “He's probably drunk enough to jump.”  
   
Sirius hurried outside, but not quickly enough to miss Peter's muttered, “Let him.”  
   
Uncle Alphard's flat was small, but it did have a fantastic balcony which ran the width of the building, with french windows onto it at one end from the sitting room, and a door at the front from the kitchen. The black railings were wrought into a twisted cobweb pattern and came as high as James' chest when he stood upright. Now, however, Sirius found him slumped forwards, staring down into London, with his lower arms dangling over it, one of them still gripping the brandy bottle. and his chin resting flat on the crook of one elbow.  
   
Sirius didn't know what to say, so he asked, “How's Lily?”  
   
“Weepy and fat,” James replied. “And I don't know why they call it _morning sickness_ 'cos it's all the fucking time.”  
   
“Poor Lily.”  
   
“She's taken up puking as her new hobby,” James continued, ignoring Sirius, “instead of screwing. Which is fine, 'cos I don't fancy her any more anyway.”  
   
Sirius patted James' shoulder, and this time he didn't flinch. “She's just pregnant,” he said. “It doesn't last that long.”  
   
James gave a dry laugh. He still hadn't looked at his friend. “The sprog does, though. The brat's there pretty much forever.” He drank deeply as he stared down into the lights of the traffic eight floors below them.  
   
“I think you'll be a great Dad,” Sirius said as brightly as he could. “You're brilliant at everything you do,” he admitted. He probably couldn't have said it if James had been sober. He put his hand in his pocket to stop himself from touching James again.  
   
James turned his full gaze onto Sirius then, it was something which never failed to stop Sirius' breath, just briefly.  
   
“What the fuck 'm I playing at Padders?” James pulled himself upright. “It was all about the chase, the hunt. It was a game. She wasn't supposed to let me catch her! She was perfect because she hated me. You'd have thought we'd done enough shit to her snivelling Snape for her to keep that up. Then she had to bloody change her mind. After all that pursuit, I couldn't back down. Could I?” He took a step closer to his friend. “Then the silly bitch goes and gets herself up the duff. Bish, bosh, it's a shotgun wedding and I'm trapped.”  
   
“It'll be fine,” Sirius mumbled half-heartedly.  
   
“I'm like a deer that got caught in one of those deer trap things! She's stuffed my head and stuck it on her wall.”  
   
“It's not Lily's fault.”  
   
“I'm nineteen years old!” James whined.  
   
“I know,” Sirius replied. “I'm the same age.”  
   
A burst of fury propelled James off the support of the railings. “You don't fucking know!” he yelled. He pointed the bottle out over the city below them. “You've got all of this, as much as you want of it. I've got a tiny cottage in a tiny village full of this expanding belly full of responsibility!” He tried to turn back to the rail but he lost his balance. He stumbled forwards and Sirius caught him, but not before the bottle had slipped from his grip and smashed on the ironwork, spraying the pavement below with a sweet, intoxicating rain.  
   
James let Sirius take his weight, whispering, “I can't bear it.” Sirius thought that he was going to cry or something, that he needed a supportive hug, a brotherly shoulder. He didn't pull away. James put his hands to Sirius' neck and still he didn't see it coming. Then James raised his face and brought their mouths together. He hadn't had time to raise his defences, so for a moment Sirius responded. James tasted of firewhiskey, strawberries and gin, but it was the movement of his lips which intoxicated Sirius.  
   
They didn't notice that someone else was on the balcony now. James' tongue had just pushed into Sirius' mouth when they heard:  
   
“Hey, Peter! Come and see this!”  
   
Sirius pushed James off him, but Peter had already joined Remus and they had both seen. Remus chuckled.  
   
Peter didn't. “I've had enough,” he said. “Do you know what's going on out there?” His gesture took in the whole of the city, implied the whole wizarding world.  
   
“Of course we do,” James snapped.  
   
“Then why can't you take anything seriously? I'm shit scared and you three are still mucking about!”  
   
“We do take it seriously,” Remus said quietly.  
   
“Why d'you think I got this arseholed?” James asked.  
   
Sirius said nothing, just turned his flushed face into the night breeze, hoping that it would cool him.  
   
“Three more disappeared today,” Peter said desperately. “Dark Marks over their homes again. How do we finish it? When will it be safe again?”  
   
Remus shrugged. “We just keep on fighting.”  
   
“Easy for you,” James snarled. “You three, you don't know. It's easy being you!”  
   
Remus just raised an eyebrow, but Sirius laughed out loud and Peter demanded, “Are you serious?”  
   
Remus caught his eye and shook his head. “It's cold out here,” he said. “Let's go in.”  
   
But Peter continued. “You're the golden boy, James. You're the one who doesn't get it. Life's always been effortless. Your family's supportive and wealthy, you're good at everything and good looking. Would you really rather have Sirius' family? Moony's condition?”  
   
James sneered self-righteously. “You know I didn't mean that,” he said.  
   
Peter moved forward to lean on the railing. He and Sirius gazed out over the city. Remus remained in the doorway, looking back into the flat and James stared at his own feet.  
   
After a while Peter asked the night, “How can we win when you won't take anything seriously?”  
   
James gave a dry laugh. “It's not something that can be won. If we locked up every Death Eater then their sons would just take over. Even if somehow somebody kills He Who Must Not Be Named, then there'll be another evil wizard around the next corner. Remember Grindelwald?”  
   
“Then we might as well give up,” Peter muttered.  
   
“We have to protect whoever we can,” Sirius whispered.  
   
“We keep fighting. Then we have babies and they grow up and they keep fighting, and the baddies have babies and they fight our babies and death goes on and on and on and -” James belched. “Fuck! Gonna throw!” He lurched back inside, through the french window into the sitting room.  
   
“I hate it when he's like this,” Peter said quietly.  
   
“Are we going to finish that game?” Remus asked him.  
   
“I'd better get home. Mum's on her own and you never know who might be ...”  
   
“You alright getting back?” Remus checked.  
   
“I'm Apparating straight from here to there. Even I can't fuck that up!” Peter said it as if it was a joke, but some of the resentment leaked out. He'd never been a golden boy. With no more than a nod, followed by a “crack!” he was gone. Remus ambled into the warm and his host followed him.  
   
“Poor old Wormy,” Remus observed, “always running to try and keep up with you two.”  
   
“You were the one who was always top of the class!”  
   
“I could do his homework for him, nobody could be cool for him.” Remus slumped down onto the couch.  
   
Sirius started tidying the playing cards into his hands. They both jolted then froze as an explosive noise shook the building. It lasted only a few seconds, but left a jarring vibration in its wake. After a pause, there was another sound. It was not as loud and had a drumbeat to it. Music. Sirius realised that the previous noise had been feedback.  
   
“James!” he shouted threateningly. “You leave my record player alone!” He started to march towards his bedroom where the precious Muggle equipment was kept. “I've told you before, you'll break it, you don't know what you're doing!”  
   
James moved into the doorway, grinning. “Not difficult,” he slurred. “Just pointed my wand at it.”  
   
Sirius was about to lay into James, to remind him just how much that lidded box had cost him and how little money he had these days, that it wasn't designed to be worked with magic, how fragile the black shiny discs were. Only, suddenly, he couldn't speak, James had jerked one hip forward in time with the music. He had his hands hooked into the belt loops at his waist and a dark look in his eyes. Sirius was struck dumb.  
   
He recognised the tune. So far it had been all drums, distinctive, brushed drum sounds. Like wings.  
   


_Here come old flattop, he come grooving up slowly,  
He got joo-joo eyeball ... _

  
   
The Beatles. The Abbey Road album. Remus only listened to classical music. He looked blank but Sirius had the brief, illusory, consolation of feeling like he understood what was happening. Then James rolled his other hip forwards.  
   


_...Got to be a joker he just do what he please._

  
   
When Lennon sang the rhythm changed. It was something more basic, that plucked at your animal core. He spat the words out one at a time as though they were bullets. There was some distancing, blurring Effect on the vocals. It sounded like a rush of blood.  
   
James worked his hands in spasms over his belly, in time to the music, lifting the fabric of his shirt. His pelvis undulated.  
   
It was a relief when the verse ended and the softer percussion took over again. But then James closed his eyes and hugged himself as a smooth, sensual movement overtook his whole body. Sirius had to look away. When he did, he saw Remus. His face was still frozen, expressionless, but the way his gaze was fixed on James made Sirius wonder.  
   


_... He wear no shoeshine, he got toe-jam football ..._

  
   
James looked straight at them. He was pouting, peering up from under his lashes, loving the effect he had on his audience.  
   


_... He got monkey finger ..._

  
   
James lifted one hand to his mouth and licked along the length of it. His other hand was sliding down the front of his jeans.  
   


_... he shoot coca-cola ..._

  
   
He thrust upwards. Remus made a low noise a little like a growl. Sirius had lost track, should have been watching the calendar. He didn't know where they were on Remus' cycle, how easy it was going to be to pull him out of this. He tried to calculate the dates, but he was distracted, the numbers kept slipping.  
   
Sirius didn't know if he'd be able to hold himself back, let alone both of them.  
   


_... One thing I can tell you is you got to be free!_

  
   
The words were thrust out like a chant, and on each one, James took a determined step forward, his shoulders flicking and rolling as though they were propelling him. At _Come together right now over me_ this time, James brought his fists up to his chest and opened them fast, splaying the fingers like an explosion, then letting them dribble down his torso. There was no ambiguity. Sirius could envision it, his cock and Remus' cock, both releasing onto James' skin at the same moment.  
   
And then he didn't need to imagine James' bare flesh because he was unbuttoning his shirt slowly over the shooping, scraping sounds and the beating wings of the next percussion break. By _He got Ono sideboard ..._ the shirt was on the floor. On the sharper delivery of _He got feet down below his knee,_ James swayed his arse sharply and got his hands on his fly button. Remus sat up straight, leaning further and further forward. Sirius stood as still as he could.  
   


  
_Hold you in his arms, yeah, you can feel his disease._

  
That wasn't the lyric, Sirius knew, but sometimes that was what it sounded like.  
   
The music took off for a while shortly after that. There was a panting sound, then a whining guitar and James screwed his face up to match, made it look like some kind of ecstasy, writhing as he unfastened his jeans, wiggling the tight-fitting faded denim down to the top of his thighs. He still had his underpants on, but there was no mistaking the fact that he was as aroused by his own performance as Sirius was.  
   
James pointed to himself, then Sirius, then Remus in time with _He say "One and one and one is three"_  
   
Remus made a noise which was unmistakably a growl. It broke the spell for Sirius, he snapped his head round to examine the werewolf. His teeth were bared. His body seeming to point at James. The golden flecks in Remus' eyes shone brighter than usual and they were fixed on the short, dark boy gyrating almost naked in the centre of the room.  
   
He stood up with one swift, inhuman movement. Sirius was terrified, but James looked straight back at Remus, his erection twitching out of the pouch that confined it. Remus' trousers were bulging fiercely, too. His face was sharp, his breathing erratic. He stalked forward. James tilted his head and raised an eyebrow, like he was issuing a dare.  
   


_Yeah come together  
Yeah come together_

  
   
James hooked his thumbs into the waistband.  
   


_Yeah come together  
Yeah_

  
   
He turned round.  
   
Lennon exhaled as though he were post-orgasmic.  
   


_Come together_

  
   
James slid the cloth down over his pert, perfect, pale buttocks.  
   


_Yeah come together_

  
   
The underpants fell to the floor and he was naked. Remus had reached him. His fingers were like claws as he took hold of James' upper arms and yanked him backwards.  
   
Then the track ended. The three young men stood still as the needle crackled for a few seconds. The next track was slow and soft. Remus stepped back, looking at his own hands as though he barely recognised them as George Harrison began to sing “ _Something in the way she moves, Attracts me like no other lover, Something in the way she woos me ..._ ” He pressed his eyelids together and swallowed. Time slowed down. Sirius didn't trust himself to look at James, instead he watched Remus run a hand through his neat, tawny hair, breathing deeply.  
   
Then he sighed and his face put the familiar, soft lines of the Remus they knew back on. He coughed lightly before saying “I think I should be heading home now.” He didn't look at either of them.  
   
“See you next week,” Sirius replied, trying to sound as normal as he could.  
   


_I don't know, I don't know  
You stick around now it may show  
I don't know, I don't know_

Sirius aimed his wand in the direction of his bedroom and the music stopped.  
   
“Next week,” Remus repeated softly. He Apparated away.  
   
“I wish we were still at school,” James said.  
   
Sirius tried not to look at him, sitting naked on the floor, his body slumped and disconsolate, but his eyes clear and directed steadily in Sirius' direction. He tried to pretend that they weren't alone now.  
   
“Life was more straightforward, then.” Sirius agreed, as he looked at the cards in his hand. He'd forgotten about them. They were Peter's. He wondered what he should do with them.  
   
James said, “Yeah. But that's not what I meant. I wish we were still schoolboys wanking each other off behind the bed curtains after lights out.”  
   
Sirius started to walk to the kitchen, away from James. “I'm going to make coffee,” he said, then muttered, “That was only a couple of times.”  
   
There was a crack to James' voice as he answered, “Five times.”  
   
Sirius kept walking, “It doesn't matter. You're married. We're not schoolboys any more. You can have coffee and then you can go home.” He left the room and charmed the kettle to heat.  
   
Behind him he heard a mumbled, “Don't make me go back there.” He put the unboxed cards in a drawer where they would probably be forgotten.  
   
Sirius shut and locked the door to the balcony. Then he stared at its glass. The combination of the dark outside and the light within threw his reflected face back at him. He moved closer and pressed his clothed erection against it, hating himself for being so aroused. The kettle boiled and stilled. He remained where he was, fighting the way he felt about his best friend, painfully aware of him on the floor in the next room – naked, horny and drunk.  
   
He had gone quiet. The whole flat was nearly silent. The hum of the traffic outside permeated it. Sirius checked and warded the front door, pushed the Muggle bolts shut, then tested the balcony door. Peter was right; you never knew.  
   
James was fast asleep. Fondly, Sirius _Accio_ ed a sheet and blanket, magically tucking them round his friend's body, careful not to touch that bare skin himself. He locked and warded the french windows onto the balcony from the sitting room, double-checked that all was safe, extinguished the lights and went to bed.  
   
He woke a few hours later and lay in the dark, hearing footsteps and the whine of plumbing. He was fairly sure it was just James. He tried to go back to sleep, but all the other, remote, possibilities nudged him awake. He pulled a dressing gown on over his underwear and followed the noise.  
   
He stepped over James' clothes until he reached the blanket. There was no-one under it and the sound was coming from the kitchen. Still naked, James was propped up against the sink, drinking a long glass of water. He saw Sirius and apologised. Sirius shrugged.  
   
“I made a right tit of myself, didn't I?” James asked.  
   
“We all get rat-arsed sometimes.” Sirius stayed in the doorway. He kept his focus on James' face.  
   
“I'll have to make peace with the other two, won't I?”  
   
“In the morning.”  
   
James groaned, mortified. “I can't believe I told Moony I had a harder life than him!”  
   
“You remember that, then?” James nodded and rolled his eyes. “What else do you remember?”  
   
Blushing, James looked down at his own naked body. Sirius tried not to follow his gaze. “The dancing,” James muttered. After an awkward silence, James blurted out, “Married life is getting to me!”  
   
“We'd worked that one out.”  
   
“Oh. Really?”  
   
Sirius smiled. “Very subtle hints. But I don't think anyone missed them.”  
   
The two friends grinned at each other.  
   
“That bad?”  
   
Sirius nodded, laughing at his friend's discomfort. James laughed along. Then his face creased up as though he were trying to calculate something. He went over to the glass doors and looked out at the balcony. Sirius wondered whether anyone in the neighbouring buildings could see him, see the packed muscle of his thighs and the dark hair on his chest. Sirius closed his eyes.  
   
“There are so many things I'll never do now,” James said to the sky, “or not until I'm old when it won't feel the same. It would have been nice to travel. I wanted to go to the dangerous places where you couldn't take a baby. Lily's not up to long journeys now and I couldn't leave her on her own.” His reflection seemed to have stopped looking at anything. He added, “I've never been fucked.”  
   
Sirius chuckled, “Then how did Lily end up --?”  
   
James spun round, his body coiled with frustration and shouted over him, “I've done the fucking, you twat, I meant I've never been the one who got ... I never ... I want to feel ... Nobody's ever been inside _me_!”  
   
Sirius tried to put up blocks against the images that crowded in on him: the texture of solid, smooth-skinned buttocks under his hands, easing them apart, James flushed, writhing, the sounds he would make ... Sirius twisted his body away so that James wouldn't see the effect he was having, stood right against the dresser and tried to think about other things. The scratched surface of the dark wood was littered with bottle tops. He began gathering them together to distract himself.  
   
Quietly, James said, “That's why I came here tonight. Only, I overdid the dutch courage and then they were here. I came to ask you. It has to be now. Once there's a baby it'll be too late.”  
   
“You thought you'd ask me? First choice or have you already asked around and been turned down?”  
   
“Don't pretend to be dense. This is difficult enough. Of course it's you. It's only you, could only be you. The experience I want is you making love to me. Never to have known that, that's the regret I don't want.”  
   
Sirius' bones went soft and there was a wet pressure in his skull. He risked a glance at his best friend and found him looking straight back at him. They held eye contact.  
   
With less urgency, James asked, “Do you know why I chased after her so fast? It was because I was running away.”  
   
“From me?”  
   
“From us.”  
   
Sirius ran the sharp edge of a bottle top against the soft skin just under his fingernail. “What do you want from me?”  
   
“Only what you want too.”  
   
But that could not happen now. This would only be one time; what Sirius wanted was a shared lifetime. James moved closer. Physically, Sirius had the strength to fight him off, but he did not have the will. One gentle, tentative hand lightly touched the dressing gown over Sirius' hip. He froze and waited. James' warmth drew closer.  
   
In hot breath against Sirius' neck he whispered, “I'm going to kiss you now unless you tell me not to.”  
   
There was a fierce redness at the edges of Sirius' vision. He said nothing. Briefly, he saw spectacles glinting and then their mouths met. Sirius submitted. He allowed himself to break. He had no choice.  
   
He stroked the skin that he had craved for so long. Fire overtook them both. James pushed his erection against his thigh, then he stripped off the dressing gown and the hot, dripping solidity of it was on bare skin. They crossed the linoleum floor, locked together. A stool toppled. Then James swung his arms over the top of a set of drawers, scattering jars, pots and a pepper mill, sending them clattering to the floor. He bent himself over the pine and Sirius stood back for a moment, trying to believe that he wasn't dreaming again.  
   
James had his head to one side, his flushed cheek against the honey-coloured wood. Perspiration polished his olive skin, wet lines streaming down the gully of his spine, onto the pale globes of his buttocks, raised up and waiting for Sirius.  
   
He almost didn't dare to touch.  
   
He was overheating, too close already. He bought himself some time by taking off his underwear. This was their one chance; he couldn't ruin it or foreshorten it. James twisted his neck to look at Sirius, with a worried, scared expression. That was replaced by a smile when he saw what Sirius was doing. It was the old smile, the look of shared mischief, the one he'd worn when pranking and wanking. A schoolboy's smile. Sirius grinned back at him.  
   
Then, gently, he reached forward, without touching any of that delicious body, and took off James' glasses, which had been pushed over to one side. They were digging into the side of his nose and one lens had steamed up. Sirius folded the arms under and carefully placed them on the edge of the sink. Then he kissed the skin that they had made raw. Then, because he had always wanted to, he kissed the little purplish marks, one on either side of the bridge of James' nose, made by the pads. When he pulled back James laughed, bemused.  
   
Sirius watched his own hand slide down James' back. When he reached the coccyx he hesitated, then he kept going and James hummed his approval as long fingers slipped over his hole. Sirius kept going and cupped James' balls, squeezing gently.  
   
James moaned. Sirius took his jaw in the other hand and held him still while he kissed him deeply. Their tongues caressed each other. James ran his fingers through his friend's hair. When they broke apart, they looked into each other's eyes. Then James asked in a broken voice, “Will it hurt?”  
   
“I'll be careful,” Sirius promised.  
   
Sirius had been where James was enough times to know that sometimes it could be wonderful and sometimes far from that. He hoped he'd learnt what made the difference. He had to give the man he loved the very best experience he could. It was a pity he couldn't think straight for the lust pounding in his head. Lube. He needed lots of lubricant. He felt down his side for a pocket which wasn't there. He must have left his wand in the bedroom. How stupid was that? He'd gone to investigate a possible intruder without his wand? The Vaseline was in the bedroom, too.  
   
He didn't want to have to lose contact with the warmth and special smell of James' body. He scanned the kitchen and spied the cooking oil. That was just vegetable stuff, right? It would be safe? He reached for it, his belly sliding over the sweet body. He kissed along the jutting shoulder blade as he opened the plastic bottle. The cap flicked away; he never heard it land.  
   
He warmed some of the viscous, yellow contents into a cupped palm. When he rubbed it into James' crack he was rewarded with a surprised, erotic moan. Like James hadn't known how good slick could feel. Sirius stroked up James' cock to distract him as he worked the first finger inside. James made a strangled sound which Sirius couldn't interpret. It was too late to slow down, though, he was too dizzy with lust.  
   
He felt the ring of muscle loosening and relaxing round his caresses. He couldn't rush this. He tried to think of other things, to calm himself down. He thought about McGonagall's hair, scraped up into a bun, then he tried to list – in order - the names of the house elves whose heads were mounted on the wall in his parents' house. Now there was room for another finger. He worked them apart from each other, then he concentrated on finding James' prostate.  
   
“Shitty, fuck, bollocks! Padfoot!”  
   
Found that then. James was jerking around as though he'd been electrocuted. Now would be a good time. He took hold of the plastic cooking oil bottle again and tipped it directly over his dick. Every time he fried onions or eggs for the rest of his life the smell would be a reminder of this moment. He got the bottle back onto the edge of the drawers. It wobbled, but did not fall. He stared for a second at the smooth dark red skin at the tip of his cock. Then he placed himself between James' thighs.  
   
It always looked impossible at this stage. That couldn't fit in there. But he knew full well that it would. He got a sudden premonition of how good it was going to feel and a warm wave washed through him. He took himself in one hand and a twitching arse cheek in the other.  
   
When he pushed in, just a little, James yelled and spasmed, knocking the oil over. A splash hit the wall tiles. Using all his effort to not push in, Sirius took hold of James' cock again. It was softening. He felt sick; he'd got it wrong. He mumbled words like “all right” and “be fine” between kisses on James' neck. The oil belched as it dripped out onto the wood. He should ask if James wanted to stop. But he couldn't ask that because he couldn't stop.  
   
Sirius could hear James' teeth grinding and his shallow breathing, could see his hands clenched. He had to think about stopping. It was just that the tip of his cock felt so good, tightly gripped by James' body. He ached to feel that all the way along.  
   
“Now. Just do it.” James grunted.  
   
Sirius pushed in, ever so slowly, his thighs trembling with the effort of holding back. When he was half way in, he paused. He drank in the sight of the glistening flesh, his red shaft, James' white and perfect arse. He pulled out and then in again a few times. The rising and falling of the chest under him became more even. He was nearly all the way in. He tried a few different angles. James made a soft mewling sound and his fingers uncurled. The cock in Sirius' hand hardened again.  
   
“You feel fantastic,” Sirius babbled. “I love this.”  
   
He let his movements speed up. He thrust and he tried to time his stroking of James' prick to the same rhythm, but he quickly lost it and the movement became an uncoordinated pull. James didn't seem to mind, though. His back was arched and he had started to push back onto Sirius, he was moaning and yelping. He reached a hand up into Sirius' long hair and tugged on it.  
   
Sirius wanted so much for this to last forever. This was the stuff his dreams were made of. Now there would be memory mixed with the fantasy. It couldn't last forever, though.  
   
He came, hard, pistoning into James, temporarily blinded, suffocated and driven mad by the force ripping his body. Underneath him, James came, too. There was a pause of a few breaths.  
   
Then Sirius said, “I don't know why we did this here. I've got a perfectly good bed.”  
   
“Mmm,” James replied. “Bed.”  
   
Sirius stood shakily, leaning on the drawers for support and slipping a little on the oil. James rolled sideways and gazed at him. He raised himself on his elbow and put a sloppy kiss on Sirius' cheek. “Thanks,” he said.  
   
Quickly, Sirius put one arm under James' armpit, the other under his knees and  James gave a surprised giggle as he was lifted up. He smelled amazing. Sirius didn't want to ever forget this smell. He inhaled as he half-carried his best friend to his bed. He climbed in next to him and tried to pretend that it would always be like this, their two bodies chest to chest, arms lying over each other, noses close.  
   
James fell asleep immediately, but Sirius tried to keep himself awake so he didn't miss a thing. He dozed. Images and phrases from the night floated about his mind, like the objects which fell into the rabbit hole around Alice.  
   
 _“...It's only you, could only be you. The experience I want is you making love to me. Never to have known that, that's the regret I don't want ...”_ That's what James had said. His Prongs had confirmed what he'd always hoped. It made him warm, but sick too. He remembered the face he loved, how it had looked while he'd been stripping to The Beatles' song. He'd been looking at Remus, though. Sirius wondered. If the next song hadn't brought Remus to his senses, then it wouldn't have been Sirius. Would it?  
   
James woke once and kissed him, licking along his lips and pulling at his mouth softly, just for a few minutes.  
   
Then he murmured, “Don't blame the baby, will you?”  
   
“Hmm?”  
   
“It's all my fault. Try to love my baby.”  
   
“Of course. You made it. How could I not love it?”  
   
The next time Sirius woke it was morning and the doorbell was ringing. James was still fast asleep, splayed comfortably across one side of the bed. Sirius crossed the sitting room, the bell buzzing over and over, stepped over trousers, then the blanket, a shoe, pale yellow morning light picking out the beer bottles on the floor, walked through the kitchen, getting his dressing gown off the floor on the way, but leaving the underwear, tying the belt as he pulled over the Muggle bolts and spelled open the protection charms. He opened the door.  
   
Lily stood there looking exhausted, bloated, worried and furious; she was accompanied by a light parmesan scent of sick.  
   
“Is he here?” she asked.  
   
Sirius just nodded. He couldn't ask her in. He didn't know if she was just going to barge past him anyway. Would she recognise the smell of sex in the kitchen? Understand the scattered mustard pot and broken ashtray on the floor? Notice the empty plastic bottle and the splashes of oil over all the surfaces, down the front of the pine drawers where it mixed with shots of spunk? What would she make of James' specs, tidily waiting for him on the edge of Sirius' sink? Or of Sirius' underpants?  
   
If she kept on walking into the sitting room, she wouldn't be able to miss the discarded clothing strewn about the floor. She would probably recognise it, she probably washed it for him.  
   
What if she went further? If she made it as far as the bedroom, could anyone explain away the vision of her husband, naked and sticky with come and oil, his lips bruised and his cock starting to harden again, sleeping in Sirius' bed?


End file.
